Who's crying? You're the one reacting to a personal essay about survival. You're the one with the bigoted opinion.
News flash: Every single culture is racist. It is about not perpetuating racism and pulling people up on it when they are.
As for Cantonese people ending up in Australia, it's called being part of the Commonwealth and avoiding communist rule. So, in a way, we were forced to come here. Again, a story of survival.
Love the article and your observations! Reminds me of the time in the early 80s when stopping in Mansfield on the way home from a day trip to the snow (imagine what seeing an Asian at Mt Buller would have been like for the whities) for dinner around 6pm. The Chinese restaurant at the edge of town would always get a decent crowd to pickup fried dimmies, flourescent pork with pineapple for take away and greasy fried rice to eat in the car on way home. But when my friends, all caucasians except for me, stopped by, I peeked into the kitchen and spoke to them in Cantonese and asked if we could have some "family" food, not the stuff on the menu blackboard. 15 minutes later, our group got some delicious home cooking and we always ate in the out of way table.
Towards the end of that ski season, we noticed that there were more diners eating in the restaurant and we almost couldn't get a table. And to my delight, I saw them all eating "family" food that wasn't on the menu.
This also happened often in the 1970s as we travelled around the state. Whether it was Portland, Bendigo, or Mildura, dropping in to the local Chinese restaurant, I always remembered by father chatting with the owner and seeing if we could just get some family food off-menu. Some of the best Chinese food I've had was from those days.
It's so good that 30-40 years on we have some amazing Chinese food in Melbourne. Let's hope Covid hasn't been too unkind to them.
I was a Chinese restaurant kid, but not in your way. Back in the ‘60’s when we lived in a bayside suburb, a Chinese restaurant opened for the first time. We didn’t eat in, my memory is it was pretty much takeaway. This was before the now ubiquitous plastic containers. We turned up with kitchen pots and pans which were whisked back to the kitchen and filled with really excellent food. Probably not the genuine food you talked about but I still remember it more than 50 years later.
Funny you mention secret ingredients, I rarely ever try to cook Chinese or any Asian dishes. Not because I’m scared I’ll fuck them up but rather because I’m not really sure how they should taste. I’m jealous of your education at your father’s side.
Who's crying? You're the one reacting to a personal essay about survival. You're the one with the bigoted opinion.
News flash: Every single culture is racist. It is about not perpetuating racism and pulling people up on it when they are.
As for Cantonese people ending up in Australia, it's called being part of the Commonwealth and avoiding communist rule. So, in a way, we were forced to come here. Again, a story of survival.
Enjoy being emotional and ignorant.
Love the article and your observations! Reminds me of the time in the early 80s when stopping in Mansfield on the way home from a day trip to the snow (imagine what seeing an Asian at Mt Buller would have been like for the whities) for dinner around 6pm. The Chinese restaurant at the edge of town would always get a decent crowd to pickup fried dimmies, flourescent pork with pineapple for take away and greasy fried rice to eat in the car on way home. But when my friends, all caucasians except for me, stopped by, I peeked into the kitchen and spoke to them in Cantonese and asked if we could have some "family" food, not the stuff on the menu blackboard. 15 minutes later, our group got some delicious home cooking and we always ate in the out of way table.
Towards the end of that ski season, we noticed that there were more diners eating in the restaurant and we almost couldn't get a table. And to my delight, I saw them all eating "family" food that wasn't on the menu.
This also happened often in the 1970s as we travelled around the state. Whether it was Portland, Bendigo, or Mildura, dropping in to the local Chinese restaurant, I always remembered by father chatting with the owner and seeing if we could just get some family food off-menu. Some of the best Chinese food I've had was from those days.
It's so good that 30-40 years on we have some amazing Chinese food in Melbourne. Let's hope Covid hasn't been too unkind to them.
Before I even get to the rest of the article... I’m a fucking Chinese menu person... Not every white is a bogan
Maybe reading it all before commenting might make you see that wasn't even mentioned.
I was a Chinese restaurant kid, but not in your way. Back in the ‘60’s when we lived in a bayside suburb, a Chinese restaurant opened for the first time. We didn’t eat in, my memory is it was pretty much takeaway. This was before the now ubiquitous plastic containers. We turned up with kitchen pots and pans which were whisked back to the kitchen and filled with really excellent food. Probably not the genuine food you talked about but I still remember it more than 50 years later.
I am familiar with the pots and pans move. Love it! (Ps- the secret ingredient is sugar.)
Funny you mention secret ingredients, I rarely ever try to cook Chinese or any Asian dishes. Not because I’m scared I’ll fuck them up but rather because I’m not really sure how they should taste. I’m jealous of your education at your father’s side.
Clinging to culture.